Princess

I wear a ball gown several times a week.

That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?

When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I vowed she would not know a single Disney princess. She would have more positive role models, like astronauts, scientists, and adventurers. None of this namby-pamby, sissified, damsel in distress crap.

I worked hard at it for awhile. In fact, I took a lot of pride in the fact that no princesses could be found in my house.

I am not sure when, exactly, but it happened: she became aware of the color pink and tiaras and tutus and royalty and castles….

Then those Disney princesses started showing up in her vocabulary.

Next thing I knew, I was buying Cinderella. And Tangled. The Little Mermaid. All of them!

So back to the ball gowns. I love them. I have a nice collection that I have accumulated over the years, left overs from bridesmaid duties or formal events. Maybe because when I was a kid, I really, really wanted just one beautiful, gorgeous princess dress that I could play dress up with. Just one? It never came. Now as an adult, I can’t bear to dispose of them. Which is fortunate, because now I can dress up and play tea party whenever I want!

I did a lot of soul searching. Do I really want to encourage this kind of behavior?

In the end I decided that my daughter should be able to embrace being a girl, being feminine. Having that extra X chromosome isn’t something awful or wrong. Princesses can be smart. They can have adventures and make discoveries and do all of that in a ball gown and high heels if they want to, they just have to work harder at it. And that is OK.

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